


Vore Me Maybe

by epochryphal



Series: Shopping Universe [3]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: M/M, Other, Vore
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-19
Updated: 2016-08-19
Packaged: 2018-08-09 19:07:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,244
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7813642
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/epochryphal/pseuds/epochryphal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff"><p>oh believe me, this is going to happen.</p></blockquote>





	Vore Me Maybe

EB: are you........  
EB: shitting me.  
TT: Maybe I was unclear.  
TT: You would be doing the shitting here.  
EB: dude!!!! gross!!!!!!!!  
TT: Hey, what did we say about kinkshaming.  
EB: oh man, my bad, let me try and remember.  
EB: hmmmm... it's coming back to me....  
TT: John.  
EB: shshhshhhh, i'm accessing my memory storage databanks.  
EB: how does it go again? oh yeah.  
EB: robo remembering...  
EB: robo remembering...  
TT: Sigh.  
EB: robo remembering...  
EB: aha! here it is. oh look, it's the very same conversation where you diagrammed the difference between body shaming and self negativity.  
EB: it was extra easy to recall because i will never let you live down the public/private axis binary and how fake it was.  
TT: One time.  
TT: One time I slip into an overly reductionist model and of course it's the sole ethical treatise you show any interest in.  
EB: i am very interested in the body discourse when it serves me.  
EB: because do you human remember what your graph said, Dirk?  
EB: my anus, my emotions!!!!  
TT: Okay, okay, fair.  
TT: Resume being grossed out by your natural bodily functions and organs.  
EB: neither of us ever stopped.  
TT: Also fair, if a bit overly simplistic, but you're aware of that.  
TT: And our mutual issues with corporeality are getting us off-topic.  
EB: but that was the plan!  
EB: to ignore your freaky fetish boner.  
EB: okay on second thought please don’t tell me you’ve actually got one.  
TT: It’s TMI Tuesday, John. Don’t ask me to violate the sacred, ritualistically-painful-for-everyone-involved honesty of TMI Tuesday.  
TT: Besides,  
TT: You asked.  
EB: blechhhhhhhh.  
EB: i think that is my cue to barf.  
EB: except now i’m worried you’ll think i am upping the hotness levels of this disgusting conversation!  
TT: I think even I can detect your expression of sincere revulsion from here, dude.  
TT: Look. No ass-based puns intended, but allow me to offer a possible rebuttal:  
TT: You do realize there is zero defecation required for this?  
EB: is that so.  
EB: you mean i've been using my god tier powers wrong all this time?  
EB: i could be eating without ever taking a shit again??  
EB: why do we even HAVE toilets???  
EB: fuck it, why do we eat anything but tacos and pizza rolls????  
TT: In reverse order: Jane, swirlies, doubtful, and seems likely.  
TT: But no, I mean that this isn’t a scat kink, or even an emeto one.  
TT: Vorare? Latin for “devour”?  
TT: It’s literally just about eating.  
TT: Well, being eaten.  
TT: Both I guess? Usually the viewpoint of the latter.  
EB: didn’t you just admit to what has to happen after eating.  
TT: That’s not -- goddammit.  
TT: I’m not actually proposing Jade turn me all Thumbelina and send me on a full VIP tour of your gastrointestinal tract from buckteeth to rectum.  
TT: Still a little soon in our relationship for that.  
EB: dude.  
TT: Joking.  
TT: Probably?  
EB: and this is me laughing!  
EB: ha. ha. ha.  
TT: Alright, in the interest of not running ourselves in endless self-flagellating circles, let me lay a couple of things out uncharacteristically straight.  
TT: One: There are some creative fucks on the internet, especially circa the scratch apocalypse "ho shit the world is ending" era, and plenty of ways to act out the physically impossible or otherwise non-recommended.  
TT: Not even always in a kink context. Ever hear of those “back to the womb” exorcism deals with the couch cushions?  
EB: don’t you DARE use this to slip in how you’d be up for unbirthing too, i will dump you so hard.  
TT: I mean, I hope I’ve established I’ll try anything once, but not where I was going with this.  
TT: Impressed you know that term though.  
EB: no comment.  
TT: And I'm not commenting on the connotations of dumping.  
EB: i hate you.  
TT: Same.  
TT: My point is, god magic doesn’t have to get involved to play with impossible fantasy shit.  
TT: Two: I realize I said “literally just about eating” but, like. There’s a lot of aspects to that.  
TT: You’ve got your immediate physical attributes, such as being enveloped by soft walls, borne down on with overwhelming pressure, pinned and yet moved inexorably along, unable to even squirm, everything burning hot and slick and timeless and eating away at every bit of you.  
TT: Very hetero-Freudian, except on acid. The corrosive, non-hallucinogenic kind, that is. Though there's a solid argument to be made it's of the mind-altering kind too.  
TT: Have I mentioned how fuckin' glad I am we don't have Freud anymore? And that Rose isn't invested in porting him here? A dissertation for another time.  
TT: Anyway, then there’s your actual, non-bullshit psychological factors, like being taken in whole, dissolved into your most basic building blocks, and absorbed into another being, a greater life force, something bigger and better that’s drawing nourishment and worth from you just letting it. Or not letting, you could struggle, but it’ll accomplish precisely jack shit in the face of the overwhelming forces arrayed against you who won’t even notice you still exist.  
TT: And of course there’s your sadomasochist features with the acid etching through living flesh into bone; your breathplay with the alien environment and rib compression deal; the appeal of the taboo and bizarre for its own grotesque sake; and the whole petit mort / grand mort obliteration of self, with its ties to both post-AIDS queer theory (see "the rectum as a grave") and the eternal self-destructive urge as articulated through sex and, in turn, not-necessarily-sexual kink.  
TT: It’s fundamentally about a transposition of consciousness, about the ultimate padded cell, the futility of struggle and the beauty of being subsumed into a greater purpose. It’s being deprived of all senses but touch and discovering what a vast category that is, heat and pressure and pain and pleasure and texture and electricity and vestibular system, and then all of those melding together into one seamless sensation that transcends Cartesian mind-body duality.  
TT: No more separation; no more division. Just one whole, one infinity, one endless Experience where life and death are no longer twain but conjoined. Where everything is simple and fluid, primordial, both reduced and enhanced, elemental and transcendent. It's the dissolution of meaning/lessness itself.  
TT: Or, y’know, that seems to be what some chumps on the internet have to say about it.  
TT: ...  
TT: John?  
TT: ...  
TT: John.  
TT: “John,” I said a third time, thereby completing the summoning ritual through the invocation of a shitty 80’s movie.  
EB: fuck you, i heard you singing shake senora in the shower for two weeks straight, you love winona ryder.  
TT: Everyone loves Winona Ryder.  
TT: Did you read any of that at all.  
EB: nope!  
EB: don’t need to.  
EB: you really really really want me to vore you, but like, in the embarrassing roleplay way with shitty props and everything.  
TT: So,  
TT: First of all, that is a bastardization of a summary.  
EB: and my answer is sure but you owe me.  
TT: And secondly,  
TT: Wait, what?  
EB: mark your calendar for the eighth and be sure to wash, mmkay?  
EB: your place, your stuff, you know the deal.  
EB: i'm off to play with jake, don’t bother texting.  
EB: oh yeah, and maybe stick to liquids for the day of.  
EB: later!  
  
TT: Holy shit.  


**Author's Note:**

> oh believe me, this is going to happen.


End file.
